


To Be Loved

by meowmeowbitch33



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 1960s, 1960s NYC, Angst, Bartender Victor Nikiforov, Biphobia, Bisexual Katsuki Yuuri, Bottom Katsuki Yuuri, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Eventual Smut, Historical Inaccuracy, Homosexual Victor Nikiforov, Librarian Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, POV Katsuki Yuuri, Period-Typical Homophobia, Supportive Mari, Top Victor Nikiforov, Yooo where's dat wingman Phichit, figure skating, yes they still skate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8735284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowmeowbitch33/pseuds/meowmeowbitch33
Summary: He’d imagined it many times: his father would get angry beyond belief, yelling at him, cursing at him. His mother would simply break down and sob, wondering what it was she did wrong. Yuuri had long since accepted this probable outcome, taking comfort in the fact that at least this would all happen over the telephone, and that there was a whole ocean separating them.What he hadn't expected, however, was to meet a man capable of rocking his resolve until it crumbled to dust.





	1. Someone to Care

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!~ Thank you for taking the time to read this story, and it being my first fanfiction on this website, I hope it is well received! Not only is it my first fanfic on AO3 (I typically post to fanfiction.net), but this is also my first Yuri!!! on Ice story I've ever written, so my grasp on the characters' personalities aren't quite honed yet.  
> The idea for this story came on accident, actually, hehe. I was writing a Viktuuri prompt when one thing led to another, and I ended up getting really invested to where it kinda just turned into this. I wanted to write something where Yuuri's parents, who are portrayed as very easygoing, accepting people, aren't so open-minded. So when better to write the story than 1960s New York City? As a warning, there will be some historical inaccuracy, of course, but I tried researching everything to the best of my ability. Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This story is named after Michael Buble's song "To Be Loved".

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this book was going up next.”
> 
> With only a few soft spoken words, and the gentle brush of long, slender fingers against his own, Yuuri’s entire world was sent reeling.
> 
> Yuuri stared at their hands for a minute, both coincidentally planted on the same book, before his subconscious eventually forced him to glance up at the perpetrator. And dear god he wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

     Yuuri shifted uncomfortably in the back seat of the taxi as a plethora of stress-inducing thoughts flittered through his mind. _Just breathe, you can do this_ , he said to himself repeatedly, saying it as much as needed to calm his nerves and force himself to believe that it was true.

     …Unfortunately, coming out and saying the words “I’m bisexual” to his parents, was a bit harder to do than he’d ever imagined.

     The youth sighed, slumping back defeatedly into the rubbery, leather cushion of the taxi cab, brown eyes absently watching the usual horde of pedestrians hurry along to wherever it was they needed to be. In a way, it was a comforting sight, knowing that each one of these people, all drastically different from the other, had their own problems; their own lives. It helped him to know that he wasn’t the only one struggling here. Of course, a lot of these people probably weren’t bisexual, Japanese, immigrant men, but still, it helped.

     With no reason other than wanting some space and a change of scenery, Katsuki Yuuri saved every penny he had (with a little help from his beloved parents), and moved here from Hasetsu two years ago at the ripe age of 21. It was difficult, but he did it. Maybe it was those old, romance films based in New York City he loved watching as a kid that inspired him to move, or maybe it was purely some whim he’d felt confident enough to act upon. Whatever it was, he didn’t care. With a stable job at the city’s public library, and a tiny apartment not too far from Central Park’s new ice skating rink, the Japanese man was, for the most part, content.

     At least, he would be if his parents would stop harassing him about his love life over their phone calls.

     Every call was this routine of his parents badgering him with questions such as “ _any noteworthy dates recently?_ ” or, “ _when are you going to get a girlfriend, Yuuri? You’ve lived there for two years now._ ” It was terrifying, honestly. Yuuri couldn’t help but get this gut-wrenching anxiety with every phone call, fearing that they would somehow figure it out. He’d gotten by on occasion with telling them little white lies about a meaningless date with some made up woman-- dates that, in reality, had conspired between him and another man.

   In this day and age of 1967, homosexuality and bisexuality were pretty much taboo in society. Not just in America, but in Japan, as well. How could he tell his homophobic parents, though as loving and supportive as they were, that their son just so happened to prefer men slightly more than women? He’d imagined it many times: his father would get angry beyond belief, yelling at him, cursing at him. His mother would simply break down and sob, wondering what it was she did wrong. Yuuri had long since accepted this probable outcome, taking comfort in the fact that at least this would all happen over the telephone, and that there was a whole ocean separating them.

     Yuuri was shaken from his thoughts when the cab suddenly pulled to a stop. Blinking a few times in confusion, he was eventually able to recognize that he had reached his destination. There were only a couple words exchanged between him and the driver, and once the fee was paid, Yuuri was off to work.

* * *

 

     His job at the public library was quiet, and that was just how Yuuri liked it. It quite possibly could have been due to his racial profile, but no one bothered him here. Other than the occasional patrons that approached him asking about some book they needed, the youth was able to read, check out, stamp, and restock books in peace. He was even allowed the time to work on a short novel he’d been writing for a couple months now. The library was a sanctuary for him; quiet, comfortable, and safe.

     “Good afternoon, Yuuri!” Called Yuuri’s co-worker and friend, Phichit Chulanont, to which said Japanese man simply smiled forcibly at in response as he sauntered into the break room.

     Phichit took his time pouring the rest of the brown, satisfying liquid from the coffee pot into his mug before trailing after his friend, watching as he removed his blue knit sweater. “How’s it going, Yuuri? You’re here kinda late, aren’t you?” He mused, taking a long sip of his beverage.

     Yuuri only shrugged, “Traffic, I guess.” He answered absently, his mind obviously elsewhere.

     Phichit quirked a brow at that, and Yuuri could already tell that he sensed something wasn’t quite right. Which wasn’t surprising at all, considering the two had known and worked with each other since he first moved here. His book of friends wasn’t very big over here in America, but if he had to choose, Phichit was his best. He told him everything; their talks ranging from homesickness, anxiety, love issues… Yuuri even trusted him with the extremely private information that happened to be his sexual identity.

     “Something wrong?”

     “Not at all, I’m just a little tired. I couldn’t get much sleep last night.”

     “Are you sure?”

     “Mhm.”

     “ _Yuuri._ ”

     The look Yuuri sent Phichit’s way was coy, uncertain, and _god_ did it make him feel like shit. For christ’s sake, Phichit was his best friend, who he already knew for a fact accepted him whole-heartedly. Yet here he was, nervous to confide in that one person.  
Yuuri sucked in a breath, grip on his blue sweater visibly tightening, “I think I’m going to tell my parents tonight…” He finally said, voice barely audible in its low, halting whisper.

     There was really no need to elaborate from there.

     “Oh my god,” The Thai man said under his breath, eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re really going to…?” When he was met with a small, curt nod, you better believe that Phichit wasted no time whatsoever taking the other into his arms. “No matter what happens, I wish you the best of luck.” He muttered softly to the other, rubbing small, reassuring circles into his co-worker’s back. “And I swear to god, Yuuri, don’t you dare hesitate to come by my place if you need someone to talk to, okay?”

     The idea of coming out to his parents wasn’t exactly new. In actuality, it’d been on his mind for the past few weeks. What had started out as a mere thought after one of many phone calls home had gradually turned into something much more real, and at first, he’d truly felt confident in his ability to take such a bold risk. But now that the day to do it was finally here… not so much. All traces of confidence had left the building entirely, and now, all that was left was a mountain of anxiety, and a few, withering strings of hope that his parents would find it in their hearts to accept him for who he is.

     Yuuri accepted the embrace easily, burying his face into the other’s shoulder as he listened to him speak. “I will.” He promised quietly, relishing in the hug that he hadn’t realized he’d needed until now.

     A minute or so passed when the two finally decided to break away, Yuuri dragging the heels of his palms across his face as though the action would rid himself of his red, glassy eyes, and burning hot cheeks. “I-I’m going to, uh—… I-I noticed that the returned books haven’t been restocked yet. I’m just going to go ahead and take care of that, yeah?” He mumbled, practically tripping over his words during his effort to hurry up and get the hell out of there.

     Without even giving Phichit a second to respond, Yuuri was out, trying not to look like he’d been on the verge of crying. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy Phichit’s company and consolation, he just… he just felt uncomfortable making himself so vulnerable around other people. Doing so made him feel like a bother, and that was the last thing he ever wanted to be.

     Yuuri sighed shakily as trembling hands took hold of a half-full book cart, slowly easing it forward to its first stop: D-F in the mystery/suspense aisle. As he proceeded to shelve books, he steadily began to relax under the loud silence of the library. The soft _shh_ of pencil against paper, the cool hiss of turning pages, the calming feeling and sound of loving fingers on hard covers… even the insistent, demanding squeak of the wheels of the book cart. All of it was such an experience for Yuuri; a mantra of sounds. Libraries filled him with the reassurance and validation that people just couldn’t.

     Yuuri made a mental note to apologize to Phichit later for bolting the way he did. Of course, Phichit probably wasn’t even upset about it, but still. Even if his friend already understood perfectly, it just didn’t sit well with the librarian to not do something about it. He wanted Phichit to know that he appreciated him, efforts and all. Thanks to library, plus his friend’s never ending support, Yuuri was OK now. In this quiet, safe haven of his, nothing could go wrong, and nothing the world had to throw at him could bring him dow—

     “Ah, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this book was going up next.”

     With only a few soft spoken words, and the gentle brush of long, slender fingers against his own, Yuuri’s entire world was sent reeling.

     Yuuri stared at their hands for a minute, both coincidentally planted on the same book, before his subconscious eventually forced him to glance up at the perpetrator. And dear _god_ he wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

     Oh, he swore this man was the living embodiment of perfection. Short, gray—no, silver?—hair with long bangs that fell gracefully over the left side of his face, defined cheekbones one only sees on marble statues, a chiseled jawline, and eyes a shade of blue he didn’t even know _existed_. A man this beautiful couldn’t be real, right? It was impossible, downright unfair. Then again, if a man such as this wasn’t real, how did that explain the hand that remained unabashedly against his?

     “Um, are you alright? Hello?” The stranger called, waving a hand in front of the Japanese man’s face.

      _Shitshitshit_ , had he been staring? Yuuri quickly retracted his hand from the book and held it tight to his chest, cheeks burning scarlet when he heard something that—if he was hearing correctly—resembled laughter escape from the other man. After coming to process what had to be the most embarrassing moment of his life, he quickly fixed his eyes on his shoes, definitely NOT internally melting at how hearty the stranger’s laugh was. “C-Can I help you?” He finally managed to say, eyes eventually betraying him in their desire to catch one last look at this masterpiece of a human being.

     The blue eyed man smiled a glittering smile, obviously quite relieved that the raven hadn’t completely blanked out on him. “Ah! Yes, I’m trying to get back into reading, you see. So a dear friend of mine recommended this book,” He explained, now taking the book they’d previously collided hands over, “to help me out.”

     Yuuri nodded slowly in understanding, still sort of dazed, but forcing himself to stay in touch with reality right now so that he didn’t appear any weirder than he probably already did to the man, “Right.”

     “Though, on second thought, this book looks a little bit on the boring side. Got anything you think I might like?”

     Now Yuuri didn’t know what the hell to do. Any smartass would say to just give the guy a book recommendation, but nope. It took him all of his willpower to not faint right then and there from how god damn nervous he felt at that very moment. And that smooth, lilting voice (he was most definitely foreign, judging by its accent) was not helping at all.

     With a small, tentative nod, Yuuri abandoned the book cart in favor of leading the handsome stranger to some other part of the library, wordlessly calling him to follow. He supposed he could suggest his favorite book… after all, the guy said he was looking to get back into reading, not delve into a specific genre. He didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he was in want of a good book.

     “Here,” The librarian said once they reached the classics aisle, having to stand on his tippy toes to reach a tall shelf for the book in mind. Muttering some unintelligible words of success upon reaching it, he turned to face his patron, handing it to him with all the care someone could ever have for an item. “ _Anna Karenina_ , by: Leo Tolstoy. It’s uh—my favorite book.” Yuuri mumbled, left hand absently fiddling with the sleeve of his right one.

     The stranger stared at the book, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “A Russian author, huh? Is it really that easy to tell where I’m from?” He joked, glancing back at Yuuri who simply blushed and looked away in response. Being ignored was something one should be offended by, but the Russian could only seem to feel endeared by it. “What’s it about?” He carried on, deciding to give the conversation a little needed push.

     Yuuri perked up at that, obviously excited to be given the opportunity to talk about his all-time favorite book. “Are you sure?” He asked in a hopeful tone, brown eyes brightening considerably once receiving a nod as quiet permission from the other.

     “Alright, to put it simply, Anna Karenina is just this beautiful, tragic story of a woman—bored with her aristocratic life as a wife and mother—who starts having an affair with a count. I get it, it probably sounds like some typical, cheesy forbidden romance novel a housewife might enjoy reading in her free time, but trust me when I tell you that it is so much more than that. The romance between Anna and Vronsky is just so… so _passionate_ and consuming. Tolstoy captures it so well, it’s like you’re a part of it. How Anna falls into this pit of excitement for doing something so dangerous, but also into this pit of straight up paranoia and guilt that Vronsky will start cheating on her like she did to her husband… I can’t describe it, but there’s something fascinating, and grotesque about watching how one woman’s choice, ironically enough, led to her demise. It leaves the reader with bated breath just waiting to see what will happen next. There’s really nothing quite like i—“

     It was at that moment that Yuuri decided to look at his patron again, immediately shutting up when he noticed that the other was staring at him with some unreadable expression. “Ahaa,” He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his suddenly sweaty neck. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble. I get it if you’re not interested. A lot of people aren’t very into classics. I’ll just put this back and we can go find another boo—“

     “I’ll take it.”

     “Huh?”

     “I said I’ll take it.” The man repeated easily, not once dropping that cheerful, relaxed demeanor of his. “You said it’s your favorite book, right? You got so excited talking about it; I thought it was absolutely adorable. A book that makes someone that happy _has_ to be good.” He mused, sending the startled Japanese man a little wink.

     Yuuri blushed at the compliment(?), shifting his gaze back to the ground in between them. He knew he should’ve felt embarrassed by the oddly flirtatious vibes he was getting from this random stranger, yet he couldn’t help the small, bashful smile that appeared on his lips. Rather than embarrassment, he actually felt happy? It was strange, even to him, but he tried not to dwell on it too much, preferring to simply relish in the feeling. “Let’s go check that out for you then.”

* * *

 

     “May I see your library card?”

     The light haired man blinked, tilting his head slightly to the side to show his confusion. “Library card…?”

     …Yuuri was starting to wonder if this man had been telling the truth earlier about once being an “avid reader”.

     The librarian sighed, pulling out a little notepad and pen before glancing up at the other. “What is your name, and date of birth?” He asked.

     “Viktor Nikiforov, born December 25th, 1940.”

     Yuuri jotted down the information on a piece of paper, silently testing the man’s name on his tongue as he wrote. Without another word, he got up and disappeared behind some door that Viktor could only assume was the supply room. He soon returned a few minutes later with a metal plated card between his fingers.

     “This,” Yuuri started, holding the new, custom made card in the air for Viktor to see, “Is your new library card. Don’t lose it, okay?” He didn’t wait a single second for an answer before taking both Viktor’s card and the book’s, and slipping them into some big, metal machine together. Viktor flinched slightly at the loud, satisfying ka-chunk noise the machine made when its lever was pulled, but he quickly brushed away the surprise, and Yuuri acted as though he hadn’t noticed. “Here you are, Mr. Nikiforov.” The raven said formally as he slipped on his practiced, customer-friendly smile, now holding both the card and the book out to the other.

     Viktor took the items, expression relaxed as he gazed down at the book in his hands, gingerly running the pads of his fingers over the rough, engraved numbers on his new card. Unfortunately, that look of absolute tranquility didn’t last long, and Yuuri had to quickly focus his attention elsewhere, as though he hadn’t been staring. Because before he knew it, the Russian’s dazzling blue eyes were back on him, warm, enthusiastic, and inviting. “Thank you, _Yuuri_.” Said Russian hummed, nearly giving Yuuri a heart attack with how fucking smooth his name sounded on the other’s lips.

     Yuuri could’ve sworn he felt a burning red creep down his neck, greet his ears, and blossom on his cheeks. “H-How do you know my name…?”

     Viktor shrugged, a rather boring gesture on its own, but amusement danced in his eyes, “Your name tag.”

      There were more _ohmygodIcan’tbelievethatjusthappenedI’msodumb_ moments in his life, he was certain, but right now, this took the cake. The flush on Yuuri’s face darkened, if that was even possible anymore, and his hands moved to cover his nametag on impulse. He couldn’t think of anything to say at that moment, so he acted on the first defense mechanism that came to mind: laugh it off, and ramble.

     “H-ah!! Of course! I forgot all about t-this silly thing. You know, it’s always so quiet around here and no one really bothers me so it’s really easy to forget that this is actually my workplace but I don’t mind I mean it smells sometimes in some places but it rea—“

     “Yuuri.”

     It was amazing how quickly one could shut up by the mere call of his name, and Yuuri cursed himself for being so wishy-washy. Viktor had to be a siren in disguise, there was no other way, right? He was so… _provocative_. The man was the personification of surrealism.

     Viktor leaned forward onto the polished, wooden counter top, arms crossed leisurely over its surface while he kept steadfast, yet cool, and relaxed eye contact with the Japanese man. “I work at a bar close by, and my shift starts at 8:30 tonight.” He started slowly, voice suddenly dropping into a low whisper. Yuuri was seriously wondering if he was dreaming, “I was wondering if you might be interested in dropping by…?” The gentle, almost shy smile on Viktor’s lips right now was enough to make Yuuri’s heart melt. He wasn’t even sure if it was physically possible for him to formulate words, because of how enamored he felt.

     “Um--…”

     “You don’t need to answer now, if you’d rather give it some more thought.” Viktor assured swiftly, not at all fazed by the other’s dubiousness. With ease that Yuuri could only dream about having, the light-haired man reached over to take the notepad and pen used earlier from the desk. “Here,” Viktor said as he began to write, tearing off the sheet of paper once he was done, and tucking it safely in Yuuri’s right hand. “This is the address of the bar that I work at. I hope I’ll see you there?”

     How embarrassing. Yuuri couldn’t hide the shiver that ran through his body when Viktor’s fingers purposefully grazed his own—a touch that he hadn’t realized he’d come to miss so much.

     The light-haired man simply laughed, though not in a way meant to mock the other. “I guess I’ll know what your answer is if I see you there or not.” He mused, a bright, entertained grin on his lips as he stared at the stock-still librarian across from him. Viktor took his time in pulling away and collecting his new things, casting a little wave of farewell before departing; his tall, lean figure growing smaller and smaller with every centimeter of distance put between them.

     Yuuri waited until that impossible man was completely out of his sight to let his legs resort to putty, and crash backwards into the soft, (thankfully) cushioned chair behind him. “What just happened…?” He whispered to himself, running a hand through his short, black hair, the other holding Viktor’s note at eye level. Yuuri stared at the note long and hard, a small, giddy smile tugging at his lips without him even noticing.

     He supposed he could put off calling his parents for just a _little_ bit longer…


	2. Someone to Share

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo, so uh... sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up. I started writing it the day after I uploaded the first chapter, but as you can probably tell, it's pretty easy for me to fall into a dry period if I let procrastination get the best of me, haha. *sweats* Anyways, thank you so much for your love and support for chapter one!

      _“No way, I can’t believe it! My Yuuri was asked out on a date!”_

  
_“Phichit,”_

  
_“Not that I don’t think you’re capable of landing a date or anything,”_

  
_“It’s not a da—“_

  
_"It just happens so rarely these days! I’m so proud of you! Ah! We need to get you looking really choice for this special occasion.”_

  
_“Phichit, what are you doing with my glasses? Wait, why are you spitting on your hand—EWEWEWEWEW GET AWAY FROM MY HAIR THAT’S SO DISGUSTING.”_

  
     As he stood in front of the building that Viktor supposedly worked at, this was the conversation that played vividly through Yuuri’s mind. It was just barely about to be 8:30, yet here he was, staring at a lovely establishment called _The Feltsman Bar_ , with his dark bangs slicked back, glasses missing (despite the reluctance on Yuuri’s part), and now dressed in one of his friend’s plain, black dress shirts that he kept around at work in case of an emergency. And this occasion, as Phichit had said, was _definitely_ an emergency. The way the Thai man acted once he told him about his strange encounter with a suave foreigner, was no different than a doting mother who just found out that her son got a date for his first school dance. Yuuri had felt embarrassed, to say the least, but underneath all of his weak protests, he couldn’t help but share some of his friend’s excitement. After all, how often was it that he got invited out by someone like Viktor?

  
     Again, _how often was it that he got invited out by someone like Viktor?_ The thought alone made Yuuri’s head heavy with determination and anxiety; both fighting for dominance. God damn it, why did he let Phichit talk him into this? True, the decision wasn’t exactly one-sided, and he could’ve said something if he really didn’t want to go, but still. What if he was trying too hard with his appearance? What if Viktor’s motives behind inviting him here were truly platonic and he was just getting way in over his head? What if Viktor found out how incredibly boring he was and decided to never speak to him again? What if—

  
     “Yuuri?”

  
     Well, speak of the devil.

  
     The raven startled, quickly turning around when he heard that voice directly behind him; one he could only distinguish as Viktor’s. Who else could it be? He’d only met the Russian earlier that day, but that voice of his was hard to forget. Strong, yet low, soft, and lilting; the man had a voice that could put an entire orchestra to shame, and make Yuuri’s heart do somersaults in his chest.

  
     “So it _is_ you.” Viktor affirmed to himself, a genuinely pleased grin growing on his lips. “I almost didn’t recognize you with your glasses missing and your hair all done up.” He mused, reaching out to brush a few loose strands of hair out of the other’s face. “What are you doing standing around outside? I didn’t think I’d see you here so early.”

  
     Yuuri swallowed dryly at the touch and observation, blaming the cold, night air (even if it was only remotely so) for the soft pink that he was certain powdered his cheeks. “I-I uh… What about you? Your shift was supposed to start at 8:30, right? You’re late.” He pointed out, shifting the conversation to focus more on Viktor, and less on his apparent eagerness.

  
     Viktor stuffed his hands in the pockets of his beige trench coat, simply shrugging in response. The Japanese man’s attempt to change the subject was fairly obvious, but he decided to just ignore it and go with the flow. “Eh, I’ve known the owner for a few years now, and this isn’t the first time I’ve shown up a little late. He’ll probably nag me about it later, but he would never go so far as to fire me.” He assured nonchalantly. Despite how often Yakov would have to get onto him, Viktor knew that the old man cared for him, as did he. “Anyways,” The Russian continued, “Why don’t we go inside, hm?” He suggested, not waiting for an answer before pressing a hand on the small of Yuuri’s back to gently usher him inside.

  
     The Feltsman Bar was a small establishment in the city of New York, and despite its stately size, was held in high regard by businessmen and the average citizen alike. A few reasons for that being its calm, sophisticated demeanor, the classy, yet modern décor that appealed to people of all ages, and its reputation for always carrying the most desired, hard-to-come-by liquor around. The bar had been Yakov Feltsman’s pride and joy since the age of 25, and continued to impress anyone and everyone that happened to stop by.

  
     Suddenly feeling very underdressed (even though none of the customers there were dressed any nicer than him), Yuuri let Viktor lead him through the bar, silently gawking at the sheer elegance that oozed from the place. Never before had he been in a bar quite this classy, for most of his late night outings took place in some dingy club with an overly enthusiastic Phichit. This was a complete 180 for the raven, and he made this fact known by the small hum of content that left him once he took a seat at one of the bar stools.

  
     “I take it you like it here?” Viktor observed with an amused quirk of his lips as he walked behind the bar, stirring the librarian from his thoughts yet again. “Yakov may be a grumpy old man, but I have to admit: he really knows how to give a place a good ambiance.”

  
     Yuuri simply blinked, “Yakov…?”

  
     “Ah, Yakov Feltsman, he’s the owner of this establishment.” The light haired man answered apathetically, leaning onto the counter, head in hand once he had his trench coat peeled off and stored somewhere the other couldn’t see. “But enough about that old fart, I want to hear more about you. Who is Yuuri the Librarian? What is he like? What does he like? How much milk does he put in his cereal?”

  
     Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle at the last part, slowly feeling his nervousness melt away with the help of the guy’s easygoing attitude. “It’s Katsuki.”

  
     “Hm?”

  
     “My name is Katsuki Yuuri. You called me Yuuri the Librarian, but my surname is Katsuki.”

  
     For a second, Viktor appeared to be quite confused, but his mouth soon formed this little “o” shape, letting Yuuri know that he’d registered the information. “Well, _Katsuki Yuuri_ ,” The bartender’s wry, playful smile was back in no time, its owner reaching forward to gently take hold of Yuuri’s hand. “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

  
     “Uh…” The raven mumbled, brown eyes flickering to some other part of the room while he tried to think of an answer. Fuck, how could one man make him feel so calm one moment, and make him feel as though he’d go into cardiac arrest the next? What about that was fair? “I-I… C-Can I order a drink first?” He asked timorously, doing his best to ignore the calloused thumb that continued to gingerly rub circles into the back of his hand.

  
     Viktor raised a knowing brow at the question, and for a second Yuuri was certain that he’d respond with some witty remark and tease him some more.

  
     “What can I get you?”

  
     When the Russian pulled away, lessening the proximity in between them, Yuuri let out a soft sigh he hadn’t known he’d been holding, stiff body relaxing almost instantly. “Just a glass of champagne will do.” He said, albeit a bit breathlessly.

  
     The time that it would take for Viktor to return with a glass and a brand new bottle of champagne wouldn’t be long at all, but for Yuuri, it was all the time he needed and more. The short amount of time that Viktor spent away from the librarian would give him just enough to gather his thoughts, and th-- wait, was that a uniform he was wearing? Because _damn,_  did it hug him in all the right places or what? That crisp, pristine white button up he wore under a black vest did him _so_ right. Oh, and that black, neatly tucked tie? God, it made Yuuri want to just yank the man down by it and—

  
     “Here you are: one order of champagne.” Said man announced just seconds before popping the cork, the sound causing Yuuri to noticeably wince.

  
     “Thanks…” He mumbled, internally scolding himself for having such thoughts about a man he barely knew, and licking his lips—a nervous habit he’d yet to let go of—as he watched the bubbly pale yellow get poured into his glass.

  
     Viktor simply nodded in response, pushing the bottle of champagne a little to the side after pouring, and wiping hands on the small, black apron he wore around his waist. “Now if you don’t mind, may we please get back to our conversation?” The light haired man resumed his position of leaning slightly against the bar counter, flashing Yuuri that drop-dead gorgeous smile that _really_ shouldn’t have been legal.

  
     “Don’t you have other customers to be tending to?”

  
     “Yuuri, have you looked around you? There aren’t that many customers here. I’m sure that if they need something, they’ll call me.”

  
     Damn his nearsightedness… Also, damn Phichit for making him come here without his glasses. After giving the place a once over, eyes straining to recognize the occasional blobs of color as actual men and women, Yuuri huffed, resorting to staring straight at his lap.  
“…What do you want to know?”

  
     Viktor’s happy-go-lucky smile soon turned into a toothy grin, radiating nothing other than that of pure satisfaction from his little accomplishment. “I want to know more about you, Yuuri, that’s all. Like, your favorite color, for example. Maybe even a favorite animal, food, or something.” He suggested casually, though truly interested while propping an elbow on the counter and cradling his chin in his palm.

  
     The Japanese man’s fingers busied themselves by repeatedly smoothing over the base of the glass as he tried to plan his next words. Why was it that when asked, he suddenly forgot every single little thing about himself? God dammit, who was he again? Without even thinking about it, he raised the glass to his lips and let his head dip, taking the entire beverage in one go.

  
     “Um… Yuuri?”

  
     Yuuri ignored the other man, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve before pushing his glass towards him, signaling the need for a quick refill that Viktor tentatively obeyed. “There’s not much to say about me; nothing special, at least.” He began slowly, taking the champagne glass back once filled. “I’m 23 years old, I moved here two years ago from a small town in Japan, and uh, I work at the city library. That’s really all there is to it.”

  
     “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. You must have a hobby or something, right?”

  
     Yuuri shrugged, “I mean… Figure skating has always been a passion of mine, but people usually aren’t interested in hearing about tha—“

  
     “Wait wait wait, you skate?”

  
     “Yeah, but not professionally or anythin—“

  
     “Me, too! Haha, I used to be in competitions and everything back when I was younger.”

  
     At that point, Yuuri couldn’t do anything but blink owlishly at the excited Russian before him. “You don’t… You don’t think that it’s, I don't know…. _girly?_ ” He asked slowly, the words coming off of his tongue like glue, nervous to hear what the other man’s answer was.

  
     “ _Girly?_ ” Viktor repeated, raising a brow as his cool, azure eyes grew uncharacteristically serious. “Not at all; why should a sport be reserved for one gender and one gender only? I think that anyone should be able to do whatever they want to do, so long as it makes them happy and-- Huh? Yuuri, are you okay?”

  
     Maybe it was the alcohol, but as Yuuri was listening to Viktor speak, he hadn’t noticed how glassy his eyes had gotten, and the small lump stuck in his throat. It was hard for him to find acceptance here in New York City, and it hadn’t been any different back in Hasetsu. In Japan, the only people that supported his love for figure skating were his two childhood friends, his sister Mari, and his ballet (an activity that had already been hard enough to convince his parents to let him do) instructor Minako. Other than those four, it had been absolute _hell_ dealing with the rude remarks from school bullies, neighbors, and even his parents themselves that were reluctant in signing him up for lessons in a “girly” sport. Moving to New York had changed little to nothing concerning his hobby. Aside from Phichit --who coincidentally enjoyed the sport just as much as he did-- he eventually taught himself to simply refrain from bringing it up in casual conversations with strangers. Yet here he was with an absolutely gorgeous man, both inside and out, that practically forced the topic of ice skating into the conversation all on his own. And for once, Yuuri didn’t feel like he had to hide who he was, and the thing in life that he was truly passionate about.

  
     Yuuri smiled softly, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes to rid them of the big, fat tears that threatened to roll down his cherry stained cheeks. “Yeah,” He sniffled, keeping cool, unwavering eye contact with Viktor for the first time that night. “I’m okay.”

  
     The rest of the night was spent talking about things that ranged from ice skating, pets (they’d been pleasantly surprised to discover that they’d both owned poodles at some point in their lives, and in this case, Viktor had one right now), and movies, to their home countries, and things such as why they came to America. Their conversations were incredibly comfortable, and slowly but surely, Yuuri was able to let himself relax around the other man…

  
     Maybe a little _too_ much…

     Two and a half hours later, Viktor found himself trying to dig through the pockets of a _very_ drunk Yuuri.

     “Vik—“ An abrupt hiccup interrupted, “—tor, you sly dog.” The normally quite reserved librarian cooed, giggling as he continued to gently slap said Russian’s hands away. “D’ you really th’nk I let people get into m’ pants so easily?” He slurred, shaking his head and clicking his tongue as if to gently scold him.

  
     “Please, Yuuri, all I want is your address book so I can call someo—“

  
     “Well,” Yuuri hummed in thought before shamelessly draping himself over Viktor’s side, a bashful smile on his lips as he looked Viktor up and down. “F’r you, I th’nk I could m’ke an excepti’n…”

  
     At that moment, Yuuri could’ve sworn he saw Viktor’s face flush, but before he could comment on it, Viktor took the opportunity to snatch his address book from his pocket. The raven pouted at the action, the memory of an embarrassed Viktor already forgotten. “Not fair.” He grumbled, reluctantly pulling away from the other and slumping over the bar in his seat. It was a silly sight, though cute nonetheless, and the Russian couldn’t help but chuckle at it.

  
     “I’m sorry, _myshka_ , but I need this.” He sighed as he proceeded to flip through the address book. “How else am I supposed to call someone to come pick you up? I doubt that calling you a taxi is a good idea, since I wouldn’t even know a home address to tell the driver.” He pointed out, pausing as he stared at the tiny booklet in his hands, before glancing back up at the intoxicated librarian. “Who’s a good person to call?” He asked, to which Yuuri grumbled incoherently about someone whose name sounded like _fish heap_ in response. With a small nod, Viktor returned his gaze to the address book, flipping through it until he found a name similar to what Yuuri had said, and wasting no time in dialing the number underneath in the bar’s private telephone.

  
      _“Hello?”_

  
     The bartender audibly sighed in relief when the person on the other end of the line spoke. It had taken a few rings for the man to pick up, and he’d been worried for a second that he wouldn’t at all. “Uh, yes, is this Phichit Chulanont?” He answered, absentmindedly wringing the coiled telephone cable around his index finger. “This is Viktor Nikiforov, I work at the Feltsman Bar. I was calling because Yuuri might’ve had one too many drinks, and he needs someone to take him home. He said you were a good person to call.”

  
     There was a silence from the other man, making Viktor wonder if he’d woken this Phichit up in the middle of a nap, or worse, had the wrong person. However, his concerns were thankfully put to rest when he suddenly heard the man start to chuckle.

  
    _“Ah, so you’re the famous Viktor that Yuuri wouldn’t stop blabbering on about at work today! He was so nervous when he told me how a ‘cool, absolutely_ gorgeous _Russian guy’ asked him to hang out later. It’s nice to hear that he’s having a good time!”_

  
      _Cool, absolutely gorgeous, Russian guy?_ Viktor bit his lip, desperately wanting to press on about what else Yuuri had said about him before reluctantly deciding against it. Focus. Yuuri needed someone to take him home; that was the main priority here. “It is, but do you think you could come and get him? I don’t know his home address, and I have no idea how else I’m—“

  
      _“Oh! By the way, how’d you get a hold of my phone number? Haha, you’re not some sort of creep, are you?”_

  
      Now he was trying to get onto Yuuri’s good side here, and having the librarian’s friends think he was a creep was definitely _not_ the way to achieve that. Viktor was just about to open his mouth to explain himself when a certain Japanese man called his name from some other part of the room.

  
     “ _Vit-yaaa,_ ”

  
     Said light-haired man practically whipped his head around, eyes widening considerably when there he saw Yuuri, practically half naked (save for the black boxers, and the now completely unbuttoned dress shirt), and hanging from one of the columns in the room.

  
      _Lord,_ show him how to say no to this…

  
      _“Huh? Is that Yuuri?”_

  
     Viktor coughed awkwardly at the sound of Phichit’s voice, shaking his head slightly in an attempt to get himself together. “Yes! Do you see why I’m calling you for help now? As entertaining as this is, I really don’t want to see him get hurt, and I can’t exactly leave work to take him anywhere right now. My shift doesn’t end until 2:00 AM.”

  
      _"Haha, okay, okay, I understand, I’ll come pick him up. He does tend to get pretty wild when he’s drunk, after all. Can I have the address of that bar you work at?”_

  
     Without wasting any time whatsoever, Viktor quickly told Yuuri’s friend the address of the bar, and was soon sent off with a promise of showing up in the next fifteen to twenty minutes. The only problem now was—

  
     “ _Viktorrr_ , why are you ignoring meeee?” The intoxicated raven whined, soon moving away from the column he’d been hanging off of and sauntering over to the stunned, speechless Russian bartender.

  
     With Yuuri around, things were definitely going to be _far_ from uneventful.

* * *

 

     “I hate you.”

  
     “What? It’s not like I forced you to go out and get yourself shit-faced. I just encouraged you to get some man candy, that’s all.”

  
     In response to that, the hungover Japanese man gave a pained groan, burying himself further into the much needed security of his arms and laying over the front desk. “Even so, I hate you.” He grumbled, peeking an eye open his friend who simply went on with his task of checking the returned books back in. “You convinced me to go, and now my head feels like it’s on fire, we’re all out of pain killers, and I can’t even remember most of what happened with Viktor last night. I wouldn’t be surprised he hates me the next time I run into him.”

  
     “Oh, hush.” Phichit sighed, stopping his work briefly so that he could smack the other man upside the head. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but hopefully enough to knock some sense into him. “Stop worrying about it! When I picked you up from the bar last night, Viktor had ‘I’m going to marry this man’ written all over his face.” He pointed out, setting his hands on his hips. “Besides, how could he _not_ be into you after that lap dance you were giving him when I walked in?”

  
     “Wait, _what?_ ” Yuuri snapped up instantly upon hearing this new piece of information, face expressing nothing less than pure and utter horror. The action caused the librarian to wince as the throbbing in his head only seemed to intensify, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care at the moment. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I heard you correctly. Did you just say that I gave Viktor a lap dance?”

  
     “Actually, no, you heard right.”

  
     Why did God hate him so? What did he ever do to deserve such misfortune?

  
     “Viktor!” Yuuri squeaked, quickly turning around to face said Russian who was currently in front of him, leaning over the front desk with an amused quirk of the lips. ”W-What are you doing here?” This was impossible. Utterly impossible. Also, did it suddenly get really hot in here? Or was it just him? The extent to which his cheeks were now burning _had_ to be unhealthy.

  
     A soft, genuine laugh rose from the light-haired man’s throat, only seeming to deepen the crimson hue that plagued Yuuri’s flustered self. The sound was beautiful and so much more; he honestly didn’t think that his heart could bear to hear it again. “It’s a public library,” Viktor mused, propping his elbow up on the counter and cradling his chin in his hand. “Am I not allowed to come in here?”

  
     God, how was he supposed to face Viktor ever again after knowing that he gave him a motherfucking _lap dance_? The librarian lowered his gaze to his hands, hoping that by avoiding eye contact his embarrassment would ease up some. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that at all!” He assured coyly, just feeling Viktor’s eyes, as cool and composed as the morning sea, bore into him. “I-It’s just—well… what are you doing here? You already came by yesterday, so it’s not like you came to get a book or anything…”

  
     Viktor hummed thoughtfully at that, smile patient and kind as per usual. “Well, you’re not wrong.” He admitted softly. “I actually came here for you.”

  
     “What?” Yuuri blinked eyes widening considerably as he looked back up at the other man. This wasn’t going where he thought it was going, right? It was just his heart’s hopeless idealism getting to him, and the distant “ _oooooooh~_ ” he heard coming from Phichit (which was definitely _not_ helping the situation).

  
     “You heard me.” Viktor was grinning now, and Yuuri was doing his very best not to flip the fuck out. “Yuuri, will you go on a date with me?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meep morp, short chapters are short. I promise they'll start to get longer soon, though! The story and I just need some time to get in a comfortable place first~  
> On another note, I hope that this came out okay. Since I worked on this chapter every now and then rather than in long periods of time, I'm afraid that it may have come out somewhat rough...  
> If you liked it, please let me know! Reviews and kudos feed my motivation and ability to actually get stuff done~

**Author's Note:**

> Is it obvious how much I love italics? Haha~""  
> Constructive criticism is very much appreciated! If you enjoyed, please let me know so that I can decide whether or not I should write another chapter.  
> Thank you very much!


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